You Know What?
by JinjoJess
Summary: Tifa mentally gives Cloud a piece of her mind. Oneshot. Set during AC, mild femmeslash and language.


_Some mental rambling going on in Tifa's mind during that scene in AC when she confronts Cloud about being emo over Aeris. Contains some mild femmeslash, because Aeris/Tifa is one of my pet pairings. I always saw Tifa as the kind of person who fluctuates between being very refined and kind of crass, and I've tried to get that across here, but I'm not sure it works. Also, if she seems a bit snappy, it's because she's supposed to be pissed; I may have gone overboard at some points though. Let me know what you think. _

* * *

You know what Cloud? You're an asshole.

There. I said it.

Mentally, anyway. Holy knows I want to screech it in the highest pitch I can possibly manage, while beating you senseless and ripping off that stupid single sleeve you think is concealing the fact that your arm is rotting. Well, maybe I don't want to be quite that violent, since you are my oldest friend after all, but there are certain things I just can't take from you: namely, watching you angst over her.

It's not that I think you shouldn't be allowed to mourn; quite the contrary, actually. She deserves to be remembered, especially in light of her noble self-sacrifice. What I can't stand is how you monopolize the grief—you hoard the pain and then try to lord it over the rest of us, like our bereavement isn't worth as much because we weren't her lover.

Well I have news for you, Cloud. You weren't either.

Hmm, perhaps that was a bit harsh. I'd hate to soil her memory by implying she disliked you, in fact she was rather fond of you. And eventually her feelings could probably been described as love, but I don't tell you this because you, like so many others, define the word too narrowly. It doesn't have to mean dates in the Gold Saucer, or fantasizing about marriage, or even sex. Love is like water: amorphous and flexible and essential to life.

You're not good with metaphors though, so I guess I'll give you an example. Now, would you argue with me if I told you I loved Marlene? I do. Deeply, and to the point where I'd offer my life in exchange for hers. You wouldn't remember this since you weren't there, but during that fight with the shortest-haired of that obnoxious trio, I almost did just that. Cloud, he had his weapon aimed at my head, and all I could think about was the safety of a poor little girl looking on (and the fact that if this clown didn't kill me, Barrett would).

I was doing my best to protect her. Does that mean I love Marlene in the same way as you loved "your Ancient"? If not, does that make my love less valid? If I had died in that fight, Cloud, would you have mourned because I sacrificed myself for a young girl, or because you felt you had failed again?

See, that's your problem. You're too self-absorbed.

You always have to make everything about you, everyone else's feelings be damned. Because we didn't spend the entire journey either awkwardly fawning or blatantly moping doesn't mean we didn't care. Of course you wouldn't know about the agonizing dreams where I'm forced to relive that grisly scene repeatedly. I'm not ostentatious. I don't wake up with a start and a nice sheen of sweat all over my body.

Heh, well sometimes I do, but now is neither the time nor place for that sort of discussion.

Anyway, the point I was trying to share (before I digressed) is that yes, she loved you, but not in the manner you assume. To her, you were an intimate friend, one of her guardians, someone who understood loss and could sympathize with her. But romantically? You were no better off than Barrett or Cid.

Don't leave the room, Cloud, I want you to hear this. I've wanted to tell you for a long time, years in fact, but I've restrained myself out of respect for our friendship. And the fact that you probably would dismiss it as untrue.

She loved me. That's right. She. Loved. Me.

Is that registering with you? Since I know you didn't listen to my diatribe about the various degrees and breeds of love, I have no doubt you understand what I mean now. And I don't have to rely on smiles and vague compliments as proof, either; I have kisses and caresses and breathily whispered moans as testament.

You don't like to hear that, do you?

I'm not trying to be cruel, Cloud, honestly. It's just that your arrogance becomes unbearable at points. I'm tired of everyone assuming that I was less emotionally involved in the whole episode because I didn't wield a giant sword against Sephiroth. I'm sick of our closest friends not understanding that I'm suffering because I can manage to interact with other people without being miserable or irritable.

Wonderful. Now I've worked myself up to tears. Not that you'd notice, being so deeply immersed in your own self-pity. I don't exactly mean that, though. In a way, I guess I'm as selfish as you are, lording my relationship with her over you, even if it is only internally. She makes egotistical bastards of both of us, I suppose.

Yeah, maybe it's better you're leaving the room now. I'm not done, but it's easier for me when I'm alone. As much as you infuriate me, Cloud, you're still my best friend, and the last thing I'd want to do is tempt you to shoulder my pain as well.

I'll tell you another secret: I'm jealous of you.

It's true, and not just because everyone idolizes you; it's more due to what you confided in me recently. You said that sometimes she reveals herself to you, and you get a glimpse of her or maybe even a short conversation. And that they've been getting more frequent. You were right to think me envious, but I'm sure you didn't understand why.

Why does she appear to you? What have you done that makes you worthy of her attention that I have yet to accomplish? I have a feeling it's because you need her help more than me, and that answer pisses me off—why should I be neglected because I'm better at taking care of myself? It's not fair, Cloud. Except that it is, and she's always fair.

It's ironic, you know, how her lack of faults is her major flaw. Because she's _so_ caring and _so_ equitable, she devotes herself to cheering you up while I perch on a stool, abandoned and relegated behind a bar. Me, the woman she…

I don't care what's fair anymore. I want her here with me, and I want her here _now_. I want her to ignore everyone else, and lavish attention on me, and show the entire team just how important I really am to her.

She never gave me any warning, though despite what I've told you in the past, I know she was fully aware of what was coming. If that was the case, then why did she have to pursue me? Couldn't she have left me alone, and let me go on deluding myself that I was in love with you? No, I suppose not. And for that brief span of time, I was happier than I can ever remember. She possessed everything I admired in people: my mother's elegance, my father's wisdom, and my master's inner strength—everything I lacked. And yet, she found something in rough, temperamental old me worth cherishing.

After the shock wore off, I remember regretting that she had known and not told me. Lately, however, I've seriously asked myself what exactly I would've done differently. Probably kept her from going to the temple. And now we'd all be dead.

I'm selfish like that.

But she didn't tell me, and so I woke up nude, dazed, and alone the next morning. And lay down to sleep that night crushed by grief and more deeply alone than ever.

I'm still angry that you got to hold her last.

You get visions; all I get is a nagging, voiceless feeling in the back of my mind, demanding that I need to get on with my life because it's what she would want. I need to live and be happy when what I really want is to curl up and sob. And subsequently die.

You know what? You're an asshole, Aeris.

There. I said it.


End file.
